Family Affair
by cetaylor
Summary: When Bella's parents die, she leaves her childhood home in hopes to forget. While she is living with her aunt and cousin Emmett she quickly realizes that everything she has been dying to forget, hasn't yet forgotten her. Usual angst applies.
1. Chapter 1

_Prologue_

I remember when I was five; I wanted desperately to learn how to swim. I had lived in the same house all my life, and for as long as I could remember, a pool has always sat in the backyard — untouched. I never cared much about learning how to swim before, but when the red headed girl down the street started bragging about her swimming lessons — _I_ wanted swimming lessons. And when my parents were too busy to teach me, I took matters into my own hands.

I remember the last time my mother had said _no_ to teaching me, and I got fed up; I ran upstairs, slammed my bedroom door shut and cried in frustration. When I calmed down and started thinking rationally — well, as rationally as a five year out could be, I grabbed my only bathing suit — it was stripped pink and purple. As soon as I jumped into the pool, I regretted it. The water was green and slimy, and didn't smell very good; bugs and leaves floated on the top. I remember when I was in the water; I lost my footing on the slimy bottom and slipped. When I was finally able to get upright, the water was above my head. I started panicking and jumping, gasping for air; I splashed and kicked; when I screamed, the water silenced me.

Eventually my mother had found me. She noticed the patio door was left opened. I remember hearing her scream, as she jumped into the water and pulled me into the shallow end. She promised she would teach me if I never pulled a stunt like that again, but after that I had no interest in learning how to swim. I didn't care if I ever learned.

I've been drowning ever since.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter One_

A lot of my friends are jealous of me. Why? Because I got— well, _could_ get anything that I wanted. All it could was a simple sigh or a whimper to escape me; sometimes it was easy as batting my eye lashes. We were never the riches of people, but my father did everything he could to get me what I wanted. When I was eleven, my father bought me Barbie dream house along with her pink plastic car; when I was thirteen, we rented two horses and we went riding into the desert for the evening; when I was fifteen he bought me these really expensive designer jeans that I wanted; when I was sixteen he bought me my first car. I think that he felt guilty about picking the drugs over me. I have known this since I was seven and as far back as I can remember, I've always used it to my advantage.

My mother had married my father young, just out of high school; they married in the church my grandparents had gotten married in twenty years prior. My mother was a beautiful woman, with long chestnut brown hair cascading down her backside. She could have had any man that she wanted, and she wanted my father. As I look down at the picture I hold of my mother and father on their wedding day, I hold back a whimper that threatens to escape from between my lips.

A knock on the door startles me and I quickly close the old photo album and gently place it in its box; I tuck the picture in my jeans pocket.

"Almost done, sweetie?"

"Yeah, I only have moms stuff to go through now." I sigh, my hand gently caressing the box that held my mother's most precious memories. I look up at my aunt who stands in the door way, looking down at me with guilt in her eyes. I know what she is thinking; if she knew what was going on here, she would have saved me, protected me from it all. She would have begged my mother to come home when she had the chance.

I bite my lip, trying to not let my tears spill. When I look at my aunt, I see my mother; they could have past as twins.

"Don't worry about that stuff, I'll go through it." She says, "Come on, the moving truck is here." I stand, wiping the dust from the back of my jeans from the attic floor. "Do you have everything packed?" She asks.

I nod but don't say a word as we exit the room. I hold my breath as I shut the door; it will be the last time I ever step foot in the childhood home.

"Do you want to sit up front?" My aunt Kate asks on the way to the car.

I shake my head. "I'll just sleep most of the way anyway. Let Emmett have the front."

She nods but doesn't say anything.

The drive to Washington is long, but I spend most of the time falling in and out of sleep. I wake up only when Emmett forgets I am in the car and he turns the music up loud; his mother smacks his hand and tells him to be quiet. I wake up when we stop, and my aunt asks me if I want something to eat. My answer is always the same but she brings me food anyway; I don't eat it.

When it's time to sleep, we rent a motel for the night. Aunt Kate doesn't trust me enough to have a room to myself, so I sleep next to my aunt in the hard, unwashed motel bed, while Emmett sleeps on the couch; his feet hang off the side. When I can't sleep any longer, I sluggishly crawl onto the floor and sit in front of the TV. My body is stiff and sore from sleeping non-stop. The television is on mute while I flick through the channels but when I get to the news, I turn it up just loud enough for me to hear.

The news reporter talks about a cop who gets heavily involved with drugs and dangers his family. He tells us that this man had a wife and a daughter – when the cop doesn't pay the bill he had racked up with the drug dealer, the dealer and his army comes after his family — killing his family; the daughter was at school or they would have gotten her too the news reporter says. They show pictures of the family and I told back a scream.

"Bella," Emmett yawns, startling me. I frantically look around for the remote. "What the hell are you watching?" His voice is furious, and I cringe as he throws back the thin blanket barely covering him and walks over to me; he doesn't use the remote, instead he uses the button on the television. The room goes black, and I blink back the darkness. I am unable to see Emmett standing in front of me, but he sighs and I can feel his breath fanning my face.

"I'm sorry, I just…"

"I know what you were doing," he grumbles. I feel the floor shift as he walks back to the couch. He yelps in frustration when he stubs his toe on the metal frame. "Go to sleep." He says when he is tucked into his makeshift bed.

I wake up the next morning to my aunt standing over me. My back is stiff and sore; I soon realize that is because I fell asleep on the floor.

"It's time to get up, Bella. We have to get moving."

I nod but stay lying on the floor for a couple more minutes. I think about the last week and how dramatically my life has changed in only a couple seconds. I think about my mother and father back home, six feet under the ground; at least they are buried beside each other, at least they still have each other. I think about how I will never see them again while tears stream from my face.

We drive for four more hours when my aunt has enough of Emmett grumbling about how hungry he is; she pulls up to a gas station/restaurant. Large transfer trucks are parked behind the building. When the car shuts off, nobody moves. My aunt gives me a sad smile in the rearview mirror.

"You need to eat." She says.

I shake my head, "I'm not hungry."

"That's bullshit Bella," Emmett interrupts, his voice seems annoyed. "You haven't eaten in like two days."

"So?" I scowl, crossing my arms.

Emmett rolls his eyes quickly jumps out of the car, slamming the door behind him. I jump, startled at the sound. "He's just frustrated, sweetie." His mother tries to comfort me; it doesn't work.

"And I'm not?" I argue.

"Please just humor me, eat a little." She pleads.

"Fine,"

In the bathroom, I search for a window but I am trapped. I collapse on the dirty tile in a ball of hopelessness and frustration. I am so frustrated with this whole situation and I just want out. I want to go back home and forget any of this ever happened. I sit on the ground for a while when a knock on the door startles me.

"Bella? Are you in there?" She tries to turn the knob, but it is locked.

I wipe my eyes dry with my shirt sleeve and manage to crawl up off the floor. "Yeah, I'll be right out." I force, even though the last thing I want to do is eat and act that I am okay when I am not.

"Okay," She hesitates and I can feel her presence lingering behind the door. "I'll be over with Emmett. Come find us when you're ready."

"Okay." I sigh into my hands. I run the faucet with lukewarm water and quickly splash my face. I look in the mirror and barely recognize the face that is looking back at me. Her chestnut brown hair is greasy, pulled into a messy bun on the top of her head; it's obvious she has not showered in days; her eyeliner is smudged all over her face, not being bothered to fix it; her face is pale; her collar bone and cheeks are sunken in, she has not eating in days. I look like complete and utter shit and yet, I can't find it in me to care.

With another sigh, I force myself to open the bathroom door

Sitting in a booth while Emmett stuffs his face like he hasn't eaten is weeks is torture. I nibble quietly on my salad and sometimes sip on my water. I do everything, so that it makes me seem as though I am sitting here with my aunt and cousin but I am really back home, sitting at the dining room table, eating supper with my mother and father.

I imagine my mother who had just attempted her way at cooking steak and potatoes. She has fries cooking just in case the steak is too rare, but it isn't. My father and I are quite surprised at this; he jokingly claps his hands in applause and I laugh at my mother who takes a bow.

"Bella?" My aunt interrupts my daydreaming. "Is everything okay?"

I frown because I am back here, sitting at the restaurant with Emmett and my aunt Kate. I know what I am imagining is nothing like it is back home. My family does not eat at the dining room table; we all eat in separate rooms. My mother does not cook; we eat take out every night. My father is never home long enough for us to have a meal together. And my family is not as happy I as imagine them to be.

"Yeah."

Emmett and Aunt Kate share a knowing look, I notice it but I don't say anything. I know what they are saying with their eyes. Something is obviously wrong with her; she's crazy; losing her parents has made her lose her mind.

"Can we go now?" I ask while my glare down at my barely touched salad.

My aunt nods and we leave the table; she pays the bill while Emmett and I walk to the car. I walk slower than him on purpose and kick the gravel at my feet. In the car, he doesn't say anything. I can tell that he's uncomfortable.

I can tell we are almost home because the sky is unfamiliar; gray and dark, not the sunny, hot sun I am use too. When I look up at the sky, I don't see a sun. This is welcoming because it doesn't remind me of home. The rain and the dark sky make it seem as though it is twilight instead of the middle of the afternoon. It makes me tired, so I go to sleep.

I wake up when I am nudged gently. Usually I sleep like the dead, but here I am alert; I am on the tips of my toes. My aunt smiles at me, and I yawn and stretch. My mouth feels gross; I haven't brushed my teeth in days. I quickly cover my mouth, realizing this and not wanting to fill the car with my bad breath.

I notice we are here— my new _home _when I realize that Emmett is no longer in the car and the car has stopped and is sitting in the driveway of a small two story home with an attached garage; it is nothing like my home in Albuquerque. I unbuckle my seatbelt and grab my bag sitting in the empty seat beside me.

When I get out of the car, Emmett is walking towards me. I force a smile, and look at the two homes across the street. The rain starts to fall then, thick and cold; I shiver and hold my body with my arms.

"You'll get used to it." Emmett says.

I nod but say nothing.

I grab my bag from the backseat and follow Emmett into the house. My uncle Garrett is there to greet me with a warming hug. I go ridged in his touch; he pretends not to notice.

"It's great to see you Bella, you look great." He lies. I force a smile; it hurts, I have not smiled in days. "It's terrible that we get to see you on terrible circumstances."

I frown and look down at my feet.

"Garrett, leave the girl alone." Kate mutters, elbowing her husband and giving me a small comforting smile. It's purpose is pointless; I am not comforted.

"I'm just welcoming the girl," He argues. "I haven't seen her in years."

"There is probably a reason for that," She jokes.

"Where do I sleep?" I interrupt. It was rude, but I do not care. I do not want to be here, playing charades with these people. I want to be alone with my thoughts and memories. I want to cry.

"Uh," Kate mutters, caught off guard. "You can have Emmett's room; he can sleep on the couch. We haven't had a chance to clean the basement yet." The last thing that I want to do is take Emmett out of his bed, he already seems to resent the fact that I am here.

"Basement?" I ask.

"Yeah, we figured you would want your privacy." Garrett smiles.

"Oh," I say simply. I should be thankful, but I am not.

"I can start cleaning it tomorrow, if you would like." Kate adds.

I shake my head, "I can clean it." I don't want to be more of a burden then I already am. I think this, but I don't say it.

When Emmett is done bringing all the boxes in from the car, he is soaked.

"Don't touch anything until I have a chance to clean it up." Emmett scowls, obviously not happy about giving up his room.

"Okay." I say simply.

"There are towels in the bathroom closet if you want a shower; I advise you take one." His wrinkles his nose and I feel my cheeks flush in embarrassment. Before he shuts the bedroom door, leaving me in the darkness, the solitude that I have been wanting for days, he says: "Goodnight Bella."

"Night." I whisper but he is already gone.

I flick the light switch, and blink back the lights and look around Emmett's room; it is like any other teenage boys room I have ever been in. The walls are a pale blue; obviously they have not painted since he was an infant. Against the back wall, sits a queen sized bed and a computer sits in against the opposite wall — untouched. His walls are covered in half naked girls. On his dresser sits a picture of a blond; she is pretty. Clothes scatter the floors, along with school books and plastic wrappers; he was right about it being a mess.

After I am clean and dried off from my shower, I am back in Emmett's room. To my surprise I am already crying; silent tears stream down my face like waterfalls. I leave them falling freely, not bothered enough to wipe them as I crawl into the unfamiliar bed; I would give anything for one more night in my own bed. Instead of thinking about my parents, I think about tomorrow and what the day will bring.


End file.
